The mage grunted, her hood falling off her head revealing long brown waves. Thin arms and legs protruded from the cloak, all bruised and full of small cuts in various stages of healing.
Her chest heaved as she pulled herself up to her knees.
Then she turned, wiping the blood from her mouth. She seethed. “I heard you were promoted tonight.Tovayah maischa.” She spat.
The Emperor chuckled. “Do you think I brought you in here for that?”
“You tell me,” she said, her voice shaking.
There was something familiar about her, but my mind was blank.
“Tell you? Tell you! Your Godsdamned job is to see. To know. And you didn’t see this!” the Emperor yelled. He was suddenly gripping her chin, and dragging her across the floor. He slapped her hard across the cheek, and her head snapped toward me.
Her eyes flashed, revealing a familiar hazel color. And then all at once, I saw the recognition in them. She knew me.
And I knew her. She was someone I’d believed to be dead the last two years.
Jules. Julianna. Lady Julianna Batavia.
By the fucking Gods.
She looked away at once, pretending the exchange hadn’t happened.
“What do you want?” she asked. “Not my congratulations. My sympathies?”
“I want you to do your job. And if you can’t do that one, then we’ll settle for the other.”
She shuddered visibly, but only for a second. It happened so quickly I wondered if I’d imagined it. Because now there was a firm, yet resigned look on her face. “I told you I saw his death coming this year. I can’t help it if I didn’t know it was tonight. That’s not how this fucking works.”
“Language, pet.”
He dragged her to her feet, his eyes boring into hers, his mouth curled back. I’d always thought he had a wolfish energy, a match for his sigil, for the beast on all of Ka Kormac’s armor. But it wasn’t until this moment I saw the animal he truly was. The monster.
I’d sold my soul to a demon, and I’d never known.
Too much yellow. Too much yellow.
Suddenly the Emperor was reaching for Jules’s breast, squeezing hard.
But she remained still, unmoved, almost as if nothing was happening. Emperor Avery’s eyes raked down her body, pulling her cloak aside to reveal a bare shoulder, and then another. A loose black gown covered her underneath, but just barely.
By the Gods—what the fuck was happening? Was he about to—was he going to—No. No. No.
I couldn’t process this, couldn’t be seeing this.
“It works,” he roared, “how I say it works.” Then he shoved her back on the ground and pointed at Galen. “Now get over there, and start telling me what you see next.” He pointed at the rest of the group, still in their place, still, and silent. “And you lot. You tell me if she’s telling the truth.”
Somehow, despite all of that, Jules rose gracefully to her feet, and lifted her chin. Her shoulders rolled back as she carefully walked to Galen.
“Now, Lord Tristan,” Emperor Avery said, “Here’s the deal. I need more information. I’ll probably need to suck him dry. Wear him out until I learn everything. Who he spoke to. Where he got the idea. All of it. But since it seems you require greater motivation, and because I’m bringing you in to serve me here in the Palace, I’ll release him. As a favor. But only if you do what the fuck I asked for.”
I was still watching Jules. Still in shock. Slowly, I looked back to the Emperor and nodded.
“I understand why you failed before. Devon Hart has been a thorn in my side for decades. But we have a unique opportunity here. He and his oaf of an Arkturion remain in the Throne Room. His quarters are locked. But as Emperor, I possess the key. I will give it to you, and this.” He produced a scroll made of solid gold, the Emperor’s sigil engraved on the side. He handed both items to me.
I stared down, feeling their weight in my hands.
“This marks you as my messenger. Any request you make to any servant of the Palace must be obeyed so long as you hold this. It must happen tonight. I want Lyriana and I want Rhyan. You should be motivated to get him. It’s a unique chance. Do you know how he escaped with Lyriana from the Shadow Stronghold all those months ago?”
